Not Her
by Avada Cait-davra
Summary: While Mrs. Lovett helps Mr. Todd through his horrible nightmares, she will never be enough for him. Sweenett, kinda. more Lovett pining for Sweeney...RR?


Yess! I am back! With a vengence! And a Sweeney Todd Fic!!! o I appologize for it being so long since I have posted anything... and for the way the text in this is shifted to one side. The word thing Im using doesnt like me very much.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Sweeney. Except a shirt...and the soundtrack. And an intense wish to own Johnny Depp. But who doesn't wish that?

He lay sprawled on the floor of his shop. The very floor where earlier that day many gallons of blood had been poured down upon it. Gallons of blood that had since been cleaned off of the wooden planks.

The barber guilty of placing the blood there now lay on the floor next to a good sized empty flask that he had stolen from the kitchen of Mrs. Lovett's shop. He kept telling himself it was alright because he needed it. And lord knows he did.

Gin was the only thing that let him sleep at night. Though still tormented with nightmares of his past life, he was less likely to wake when he drank himself to sleep. But tonight was one of the unfortunate times when this philosophy failed Mr. Todd.

In the room below the barber shop, Mrs. Lovett was far from sleep. She was awake and staring into the embers of the long dead fire. She saw Mr. Todd take up the bottle of gin. She didn't say anything, she knew better, but she saw. Her heart went out to him, alone in that room that was no doubt filled with ghosts, of his past and the present. She wanted to go talk to him, make small conversation,but she knew that when he retired to his quarters he wanted to be left alone.

But then, a none too quite rasping scream inerrupted her musings, coming from the floor above her. Her heart clenched in the obvious pain in the lament. She gathered her skirt from around her and rose to climb the stairs to Mr. Todd. As she was walking through the parlor, another small voice caught her attention.

"Mum, what's goin' on?" little Toby asked blearily.

"Nuffin' , love. Go back to sleep." She answered him motherly.

"But, wasn't that Mr. Todd yellin'?" he kept prodding.

"Yes, I think it was dear. But I'm sure he's alright. I'm just going up to check on him now. I'll tell you if something's not right, love. Now back to bed with you." Toby obliged to her requests finally as another scream erupted from the tormented barber. Mrs. Lovett quickened her pace. She hoped he wasn't hurt...

Mrs. Lovett walked up the creaking steps to Mr. Todd's quarters. She looked through the dingy window in the door. He was paler than ever and punching at the air around him. Mrs. Lovett felt horrible about disobeying his request at solitude, even a little reluctant. But seeing Sweeney-Benjamin in her mind still- writhing on the hard wood floor made her remove her key from the pocket of her dress and open the door.

The creaking of the old wood as she walked across it seemed to torment Mr. Todd in his dreams even more. He moaned and murmured nonsence in his sleep as Mrs. Lovett knelt down beside him.

"Mr. T, wake up, love." she whispered. He stirred but did not wake. "Mr. Todd. Come on. It's time to get up, dear." she said a bit more forcefully. His eyelids flickered a bit.

"Lucy...?" he wimpered groggily. "No, no, no. Judge...won't...I won't...I'll kill him...I will..."

"Mr. T." Mrs. Lovett spoke, lifting the sleeping man into a sitting position. He then opened his eyes fully revealing bloodshot and dialated pupils.

"You...you aren't...Mrs. Lovett." he said.

"Yes, I am Mrs. Lovett." she said softly, grabbing a rag from the back of his chair and wiping some of the sweat from his brow.

"I know, my pet...I meant you weren't...never mind."

Those words stung Mrs. Lovett. She'd never let him know, but she longed to take the place of Lucy Barker. She knew that was beyond reality. Beyond this insane reality.

"What were you dreaming about, Mr. T? You were screaming like a mad man." Mrs. Lovett said.

"Who says I am not indeed a madman?" Mr. Todd said, his voice a pit of gravel. "And I was dreaming...I was not dreaming. It was a nightmare. It was Judge Turpin...he had my Lucy...and he was...he was..." his voice broke off, pain fresh in his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." He said, his voice suddenly forceful.

"All right, love. I understand." Mrs. Lovett said.

Sweeney tried to stand, but swayed a bit, the effects of the alcohol had not entirely worn off. Mrs. Lovett was ever ready, standing swiftly and catching him. She was holding him, his head cradled in her chest. He didn't move. She didn't want him to. He slowly raised his head and lovingly, longingly kissed her. She kissed him back, taken a bit aback, but returning the gesture all the same. He pulled away from her, she could smell the aura of drink around him still. He could smell her perfume, and the flour on her from making pies that day. It was the smell of flour that shook him. He jerked his head from her embrace and looked terrified into her eyes. Still drunk, and hardly aware of what he was saying, he pulled away and said,

"You are not Lucy..."

Four words that Mrs. Lovett never forgot, to the moment of her death.


End file.
